I’ve been trying to sell my soul
I’m at the back of the line
Green mining through ashtrays
Some things never change
The bottom shelf is a black hole
Slow and Low, Rock and Rye
Knocked me out for a while
Now, I’m wide-awake
I don’t want to . .
I don’t want it
Chip crumbs on my shoulder
I always shit where I sleep
I’m asleep in your living room so guard your things
I really needed a blanket
I didn’t know how to ask
Buried deep in your cushions . .
I’m dead
(bury me)
I don’t want to
(death is a warm blanket)
I don’t want to
(bury me)
I don’t want to feel it
(cover up, move on to better things)
I don’t want to
(bury me)
I don’t want to
(bury me)
I don’t want to feel
